A Crossover Story
by Arcadia Ryter
Summary: A crossover between "The Great Gatsby" and "Flowers for Algernon" It's a school project.


My english final project. A dialogue between two characters of "The Great Gatsby" and "Flowers for Algernon" just seemed straight up my alley. Of course it's a crossover. And I'm not going to continue on. So one-shot.

A Crossover Story

Fay thought for a moment, staring into the dark depths of her closet. Or, really, the floor of the closet. She never hung any of her clothes up. They were too uniform that way. She nudged the pile delicately with her foot, thinking. Then she saw it, and pounced deep into the closet. She came back out with a glittery bright blue dress with sequins on it. She hugged it to her. It had been so long since she had worn this dress dancing.

She threw it on over her head and looked in the floor length mirror. It looked amazing on her, as always. But it needed something…

She dived at her make-up box, and dug around in that for a few minutes, tossing things left and right in her desperate pursuit for the perfect eyeliner. Finally, she pulled it out and splashed some on. In the mirror, it was perfect.

She was ready.

Going through the door, she shouted at Charlie's door, "Hey, Charlie! I'm going out now!"

A loud thump resounded throughout the floor. Charlie roared something undecipherable, and Fay winced. She decided to skedaddle.

She got in her car and began driving. It would only be a few minutes until she got to the dance Hall. Maybe even find a beautiful man that dances well on the floor and in bed. One that doesn't suddenly change in attitude every day, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Someone like Charlie.

In her anger, her foot pushed down on the accelerator more without her noticing. That Charlie Gordon. Leading her on like that was so callous! Well, who needs him anyway? She could get on just fine by her lonesome, thank you very much. With that angry thought, she turned the last corner to the ballroom…

And rammed right into a car going the other way.

Fay compared passing out to waking up roughly, just backwards. She floated about in oblivion for a minute or two, digesting that she had hit another car, was probably dead at this moment, and still hated Charlie. Actually, she blamed him for this. If he hadn't got so mean in the past week or so, she wouldn't have died or whatever this was. As soon as she was bored with hating Charlie, she decided that death wasn't much fun. Unless there was a place to dance, of course.

And suddenly she was there, in the arms of a well dressed man, dancing slowly to the beat of some old song from a time long past. As she wanted, she danced with the spectre to slow songs, fast, upbeat songs, and songs she really couldn't place at all. She felt weightless, which was, she suspected, what you are supposed to feel when dead. But after a while, she wanted to just sit, and taste some of the interesting wines set out on the long tables. She realized that she was on a long yard, surrounded by people sauced to the gills, having a good time. Lights hung from trees and the large mansion lit up from the inside poured light down on the partygoers. Right next to the yard, there was a beach, and then an ocean. Her companion got two glasses of red wine and walked down to the beach after her, silent all the way.

She sat on the beach, and was handed the glass of wine. Her companion sat down next to her and stared out at the ocean and she followed suite. A green light flashed across from the other side.

"I wonder, what is that light?" Fay muttered, barely audible over the waves. "Maybe a ghost ship, about to take me away to the unknown."

"I doubt that." She jumped at the sound of his voice, the first time she heard it. Cultured, that voice. "That is the other side of the bay. A light so anyone can pull in at night without damage to the boat."

"Okay. Do you live here?" Fay asked. Maybe, this man is a figment of her imagination. But he's piqued her curiosity already.

"I did live here," He gestured back to the mansion, "I used to throw parties like this all the time."

Fay drank from her cup, wondering what to say next. The drink wasn't really making anything blurry, though.

"Did you move away?"

"No. I was shot."

Fay jumped again. "You're dead!?"

He nodded. He then stuck out his hand and said, "My name is Jay Gatsby. And you are…?"

Fay took his hand. "Fay. Fay Lillman."

"Fay…" He said it like he was deciding whether he liked the way the name tasted on his tongue as he dropped her hand. Then, "Our names rhyme. Fay. Jay."

Fay laughed. Maybe this was just a dream. Normal people aren't so outlandish.

"So, how are you here if you're dead?" Fay asked.

"The question is," Gatsby said, "Why are you here if you're alive?"

"Oh!" She scoffed. "Never mind, if you're going to be so taciturn about it."

They sat in silence as Gatsby scratched his ear thoughtfully.

"What do you do for a living?" Gatsby finally asked.

"I paint. Et tu?"

"I take part in scandals."

Fay looked at him with a dull look in her eye. "You what?"

He gestured behind himself once again to the large mansion. "It's a well-paying job, as you can see."

"While the rest of the world works and lives in poverty." She said remembering how _well_ her job paid.

"Yes, I was rich." His features turned downward as he hung his head sadly. "But it still didn't get me the girl of my dreams."

"Well, that's obvious." Fay sneered. "No one would want a man who believes that money can get him anything."

"She did. She did believe that money made a man." He thought a moment, then broke into a evil grin. "Don't you want me?"

"Um…No?" Gatsby's grin widened. "Anyway, I have a guy. A little bit."

"Really? What's his name?"

"Charlie Gordon."

"Ah, damn. I forgot I don't know anybody anymore." He said in apology.

"Well, anyway. Charlie is the most self-centered, egotistical, arrogant sunnuva—"

Gatsby chose that moment to ask if she wanted more wine.

Fay fumed silently as he went back up to the party left her by the shore. That Charlie Gordon. He's the reason she's here in the first place. She then had a feeling of déjà vu, as if she had thought this before.

"Charlie stinks," she grumbled. Her shoulder suddenly felt cold as a wine glass was tapped against it.

Then again, she thought as she took the glass from Gatsby. Maybe she should thank him for making her come here. Free booze, free dance until she dropped, nice guy. Oh, wait. He's still stuck on his last girl.

"Hmph." Fay hummed.

"What?" Gatsby asked.

"Who is your girl?"

"Oh. Daisy. Unfortunately, she's not mine. She's someone else's wife."

Fay cringed. "That's terrible."

Gatsby nodded. "I know."

"But, you know. I hate my guy."

"The selfish, egotistical, son of a—"

"Yes." Fay broke in. "That one."

"Why do you hate him?" He asked.

"Because!" She shouted. She stopped, took a deep breathe, then carried on in a more dignified voice, "Because he was nice before, but now that he's working, he's become so insane. Sometimes I hear him talking to himself at night, and throwing things around." Sighing, she finished with, "He once was good, and now I'm mad at him for changing so much."

Once again, Gatsby was silent. Fay looked to him, wondering if he could ever say something to that, then realized that Gatsby was talking. Well, it looked like he was talking, but no sound came out. He began to blur and fade. Fay took one last desperate sip from her wine before she was woken up unexpectedly.

"Oh! Charlie! She's awake!" Alice bent over her excitedly. They were in a Way Too Bright hospital room and Alice was screaming Way Too Loud. Her head began to pound. "Oh, Fay! We were so worried about you." Suddenly she switched from 'I'm so happy,' to 'You dumb broad.' "What the hell were you thinking, driving around drunk!" Charlie appeared at the door, but didn't barge in on Alice's wrath. "You ought to have been put away! You understand you almost killed yourself, and the man in the other car?"

"There was a man in the other car?" Fay asked, wondering.

"Yes, and you almost killed him, too."

"Can I go apologize to him?" Fay asked, even though she was very certain that she had not been drunk.

Alice gaped, then asked, "What!? Why?"

"Um…because I'm sorry?" Fay guessed.

"When he wakes up, I'll take you over to see him." Was it just her, or was Charlie talking a bit slower these days? Ah, well. Alice got down to filling her in on all she had to know.

Charlie wheeled her into the room that belongs to the person she hit. He also was in a wheelchair, looking out the window.

"Charlie, could you leave us alone for a couple minutes?" Fay asked.

"Yeah…" He drawled. He backed out of the room.

"Hey," Fay called to the guy.

He spun. Fay's eyes widened. It was Gatsby! Or someone who looked eerily like him…

"What do you want?" He grumped. His arm was in sling and bandages were wrapped around his chest and forehead.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize." Fay said.

He shook his head. "How the hell did you run into me? I was on the complete opposite side of the street!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I was really emotional at the time and I wasn't watching where I was going."

The Gatsby look-alike seemed to be fighting an inner battle. Finally, he relented and relaxed his face.

"I guess it's alright. It's not like I won't heal eventually. And you didn't even get my legs."

Fay felt herself redden. Then, something clicked.

"You dance?" Fay asked, hesitantly, wondering…

"Yes." He gave her a questioning glance. "How did you know…" He shook his head. "Nevermind."

"Hey, um…"

"Hmm?"

"As soon as you're all healed up and everything…"

"Yeah…"

"Do you want to go dancing with me?"

He laughed. "Fay…"

How did he know her name?

"Sure." He said, "And I'll get some red wine, too." He winked.

Haha. Cliffhanger on a one-shot. Don't I stink?

Oh, and just so that my teacher thinks, "Oh, she plagirized this poor person on the internet. FFFFFFFFFFFFF!" I will include the Final Project letter. Which just happens to be an F. So, don't fail me like Mr. F to Big Cat, Mrs H! (Everyone not in my school district will wonder and not get any answers.)


End file.
